Feral Love
by Maddie Rose
Summary: When she becomes associated with the Bates family, Vivian Shelby finds her illusions shattered piece by piece, and that her brother isn't the squeaky-clean cop she always assumed him to be. Between her dangerous unraveling of the enigma that is Zack, and her growing closeness with Dylan Massett, Vivian just might find that she's in over her head. Dylan/OC
1. Not The Stoner Type

**Chapter: Not The Stoner Type**

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**A/N: Um, hi :) So this is my first time writing a Bates Motel fanfic, obviously. This is going to be a Dylan/OC because come on, he's awesome! A huge thanks to thefaultinmypen, who listened to my ideas for this and gave me advice about my plans for the story! If you haven't read her Bates Motel fanfic you really should, it's awesome.**

**I own nothing but Vivian :) Reviews would be lovely.**

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There's something about me and making a big entrance.

It's not as though I mean it. But when you're related to a cop, crowds tend to part like the Red Sea, and all of the people indulging themselves in illegalities tend to scuttle into the background. Well, I guess that's a bit 'once upon a time' now. Those who know me are aware that I'm no tattletale, and that even if I was, my brother tends to turn a blind eye. Particularly if it's something like weed, in which my classmates deal in on a frighteningly regular basis.

"Jesus, Vivian, you're freaking them out." Bradley links her arm through mine, turning me away from a nervous pair of guys I don't recognise. I'm staring at them with narrowed eyes, deliberately trying to spook them. It doesn't take much – strangers tend to mistake 'sister of a cop' for meaning 'dobber'. "Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

That's Bradley Martin. She's saccharine sweet, sometimes unbearably so. A do-gooder if ever I've met one. Popular, of course. People generally only tend to want to stay in my good books because of my brother. If you're nice to a cop's baby sister, it tends to make you look good, right? I guess that's what they assume. Bradley's genuine most of the time, which is what makes it easy to both like and dislike her. Pretty, popular, sweet – sometimes I feel like the girl doesn't have a flaw in sight.

Bradley heads over towards a guy our age, but who doesn't seem like the usual dicks we get at our school. He's clutching a bottle of beer like he doesn't know what to do with it, and he looks nervous as Bradley approaches. He's dressed weird too, in clothes that look like they belong in the last century. Nonetheless, I'm not one to judge. Not at first, anyway. I follow as Bradley approaches him with a huge smile and they engage in conversation.

"Oh, this is my friend, Vivian Shelby." Bradley turns to glance at me. "You might have heard of her brother, Zack? Viv, this is Norman Bates."

I roll my eyes. Most people around town have heard of Zack. I'm normally 'Zack's little sister' instead of Vivian. But my brother's a good guy, so it's not like the association bothers me. I just shrug my shoulders, a little taken aback when Norman offers me his hand. Who shakes hands these days? Nonetheless, I grasp his hand firmly, smile fleetingly and shake politely.

It's obvious that it's Bradley that Norman's interested in talking to, so I stuff my hands in my pockets and head over to where a group of my friends from school are smoking weed. I don't touch the stuff, haven't since I was fifteen. If I'm going to smoke, it's going to be a cigarette, thank you very much. But I'm still allowed to watch other people doing, because people are idiots when they get high.

"Viv, you want one?" Kennedy offers me a cigarette. Yet another of my spoilt brat friends – she got the most amazing sports car for her 17th, which we all ride in to school. Chipping in money for gas is, of course, a must. Not that it's like Kennedy really needs the money, but it's a social expectation.

"No, thanks," I reply coolly. I don't trust pre-rolled anything these days, because people could slip anything into the mix. Another lesson I learned the hard way. I sit down and wonder why I came to this party. Was it really just to see people getting pissed and high? It seems like a pathetic reason to attend a party, but I just can't seem to find them enjoyable. I should enjoy the company of my friends, but Bradley is usually off on some charity mission and Kennedy is hooking up with someone.

I notice that Bradley has gone off to chat with Richard, the most popular guy in school. It's no secret to anyone that he likes her – what guy doesn't want to get with Bradley Martin? They'll probably end up dating sooner or later. The other girls and I have bets on it. But in doing so, she's neglected that poor, lost boy she was with, Norman. I sigh heavily, raking a hand through my hair and heading over to him.

"Hey, Norman."

"Oh, hi, Vivian." Norman's eyes had been glued to Bradley, but they tear away to focus on me instantaneously.

"You look like you've had enough," I muse. I know the look of someone who's had enough of a party, because most of the time it's my reflection in the mirror. "Did you want me to give you a lift home? I'm heading off now anyway."

"Um, sure." Norman sounds uncertain, and I'm well aware of the risks of getting lifts with strangers, but this town is so small that everyone knows each other. Eventually, Norman's going to see that anyway. He spares Bradley one last glance, before following me outside to my little sedan. It's an old thing inherited from my parents that has a manual lock, which I slide the key in and turn, unlocking the car with a click. Norman hesitantly gets into the passenger side, sparing me a quick glance.

"You…you go to White Pine Bay High, right?"

"Sure do." I start up the car and reverse out onto the road. It's still over an hour to midnight, so Zack will be happy I'm home before curfew.

Norman directs me to his place, which I'm surprised to discover is the old Seafairer Motel. He talks a bit about how he and his mum bought the place off the bank when they moved into town, and they're going to be cleaning it up and calling it the Bates Motel. It definitely does sound interesting, especially in terms of prospective employment. My current job is beyond lame.

"Are you sure here's fine?" I ask as the sedan crunches across the gravel, and I pull up the handbrake. I look up at the house and wonder what it'd be like to live in such an old place, so isolated from the rest of town. I actually think it would be cool. Norman nods fervently, opening the car door.

"Tell Bradley…tell her I'm sorry for leaving early."

"Sure thing," I reply as Norman closes the door and heads up to the house. That poor boy. Bradley would eat him alive and then spit him back out. She's sweet when she wants to be, but I get the feeling that Bradley knows how to use people.

* * *

"What's the time?" Zack asks pointedly the second I open the door.

I groan and look at the clock. Sometimes, I really think my brother needs to give me a break. What's his problem? It's quarter to midnight, so technically I'm early. I'm not really surprised that Zack's in his uniform, texting away on his phone. As the town deputy, he's always kept busy. I roll my eyes and dump the keys on the bench, gesturing meaningfully towards the clock.

"Not even midnight. Cut me some slack."

"Have you been drinking? Or smoking?" Zack questions.

Wow, it's like an interrogation right here in the kitchen. I pour a glass of water and glare over my shoulder at him. Funny how Zack doesn't give a shit about whether the rest of the teenagers in this town are completely high, but of course, when it's his own sister that's totally inappropriate. I rake my hair back and take a sip of my water. Zack and I are so similar in some ways. But I guess an eleven-year age gap is bound to cause some differences, too.

"No," I scoff. It's a dumb question. Since when have I ever partaken in booze or drugs and then driven home? Zack should know me better than that, but I guess it's my friends he thinks are the bad influence.

I set down my glass of water and spin to face him. I've told we look alike, my brother and I. We both have hair somewhere between dark blonde and light brown, sharp blue eyes. I should really be more grateful for Zack. Our parents died in a car accident when I was thirteen and Zack was twenty-four. I have to admit that sometimes I'm totally unappreciative of how he takes care of me, and I feel guilty about that.

"Why are you even still up?" I ask him.

"I was worried about you, wanted to make sure you got home safe." Zack walks over to me, folding his arms over his chest. "You know you can call me, right? I don't care if it's late. Sure I might be pissed at the time, but on the whole, I'd feel safer than if you hitched a ride with some of your friends."

Of course I know by now. Zack's only been pressing that fact into my mind for years now, every time I get back from a party. I sigh and nod, to placate him. Zack smiles and leans forward to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, kissing the top of my head. He definitely inherited all of the affection out of the two of us, because sometimes I feel that I'm as cold as ice with my complete lack. He's about to say something when his phone starts buzzing, and he groans and answers it.

"Romero? At this time of night? Okay. Alright. I'll be down at the station in ten."

Zack hangs up and rakes a hand through his hair. I have to admit that the amount of times Romero calls him down to the station in the dead of night is more frequent than either of us like. I'm seventeen, I'm fine with being home by myself, but it's just that I know I'm safer with Zack around. My brother stuffs his phone in his pocket and turns to glance at me.

"Sorry, Viv. I gotta head out. You'll be okay by yourself?"

"Sure." I grin. "I'll just be here studying, you know…"

Zack chuckles and ruffles my hair, causing me to pat it back down into place. I'm not what you'd consider dumb, but I'm not the brightest spark at White Pine Bay High either. Not to mention that the word 'study' isn't really one most people associate with me. Zack grabs his keys and heads out, and I sigh and walk upstairs into my room. I wonder what's _so_ important that Romero had to call Zack in. But as usual, I know it's private cop business. Zack will tell me if he wants, but I never ask.

* * *

"So, where'd you disappear to last night?" Bradley appears at my elbow when I'm rummaging through my locker before first period. That's just the sort of girl she is. She notices if people don't show up, or bail. It's annoying in a way, because sometimes I'd prefer that my absence went unnoticed. I'd much prefer to be invisible than be in the spotlight, but that's just not the way it works.

"You know." I gave a small shrug of my shoulders. I'm not the kind of person who wants to sit down and have a deep and meaningful conversation about my private problems. I'm Vivian Shelby, and my brother is the deputy sheriff of White Pine Bay. I'm cool and collected. At least, that's how it has to look. Nothing has to be perfect, it just has to seem it. "I got pretty tired, and it was a bit boring."

"Oh." Bradley glances over her shoulder. "Well you know…Richard asked me out last night. I kinda said yes."

Big surprise…it was pretty obvious that Richard was going to ask eventually. I mean it was good for Bradley and all, but to be honest, she could do better. Richard can be okay, but he can also be a dick. I rake a hand through my hair. Sounds like the only thing I really missed out on last night was hooking up and the opportunity for gossip to spread around White Pine Bay High.

"Garrett was asking about you," Bradley continues as I shut my locker, balancing my English books on my hip.

I groan. Garrett is a friend of Richard's who has had a bit of a thing for me for a while. He hasn't chosen to actively pursue me yet, but he does watch from afar. I'm not sure if I'm happy he hasn't asked me out, or creeped out at him just ogling me from time to time. I lean against my locker, raising my eyebrows.

"Can't you just tell Garrett I'm not interested?"

"Why aren't you?" Bradley folds her arms. "You haven't dated since we were like, fifteen. What happened? Have you gone off guys or something?"

I tense involuntarily. The reason I don't date is a bit of a touchy subject for me. I mean, I'm more than happy to flirt with guys at parties, but I don't hook up and I definitely don't date. I let people think that I'm just too focused on my study, or think guys my age are too immature. I'm sure if a guy I thought was decent approached me, it wouldn't be one of those jerks looking to make out. If there's a guy I like, yeah I might date him, eventually. But White Pine Bay doesn't have much potential.

"No," I reply, more sharply than I intend to, "I'm just too busy with school right now. Look, can we drop it? You and Richard are together, that's what matters, right?"

Bradley doesn't look convinced, but I'm relieved when she doesn't press it. Heaving a sigh, I head to English, glad that Bradley and I aren't in the same class. She can be a good friend and all, but there are some things that just are none of anyone's business.


	2. The White Pine Bay Tradition

**Chapter Two: The White Pine Bay Tradition**

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**A/N: Oh my god, just wow guys. I wasn't expecting such a fantastic response already! 8 reviews, 12 favourites and over 20 follows. You're all amazing. So here's the second chapter, with Vivian/Dylan interaction!**

**Also, it's my birthday on Friday (I'm turning 20 ugh I feel old)...so I mean, birthday reviews would very much be appreciated :) Hope you all enjoy!**

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I'd long since come to the clever conclusion that if I said I was doing something for Zack, people would be more than happy to help me out. No one wants to get on a cop's bad side, right? Especially not by doubting his little sister. That's how I end up at the local bottle shop with a six-pack of beers and a cheesy grin across my face as Heath, five years older than me and a full-time attendant, frowns at the beers I've shoved onto his counter.

"You're seventeen."  
"You think I drink beer?" I give him a horrified look and eye the six-pack in front of me with disgust. "Ew, no. These are for Zack. Come on, Heath. He's on duty so much these days he just doesn't have the time to come down and buy them himself."

Heath relents with a sigh, scanning the barcode. I slap a twenty on the counter and watch as he counts out the change. I remember Bradley's words all too clearly: _Have you gone off guys or something?_ I don't find Heath attractive, but maybe that's just because he isn't my type. I was never one to be boy-crazy, always being picky and difficult with guys which drove Bradley insane. But I knew why I wasn't all over guys, and I knew it was a personal choice.

"Thanks, Heath."

"Hope Zack enjoys them," Heath calls as I heft up the six-pack and walk outside. It's pretty dark out, nearly 9pm. I'm glad Heath totally bought my lie about not liking beer – although most girls don't, so I'm probably an oddity in that I like beer more than some other drinks.

I glance across the street, my lip curling in distaste as I see the neon lights of the strip club flashing through the darkness. I know some girl two years older than me who works there. Personally, I know Zack would _kill_ me if I ever considered it, and morally, I wouldn't ever want to stoop that low. But I can understand some girls get desperate, and being a stripper is the only thing that works for them.

I spin around and collide with someone, only just managing to avoid dropping the six-pack and getting something wet sloshed on my shirt. I take a step back, fully prepared to have a massive go at the stupid drunk – but then I see it's a young man only a bit older than me, and he looks pretty apologetic. He's clutching a bottle of beer – great, now I'm going to go home stinking of alcohol. The young man examines the wet stain on my shirt.

"Whoops. Sorry."

"Watch it," I say, a little more harshly than I intended. The guy's eyes narrow at my hostility and any remorse in his gaze fades instantly. I didn't mean to be such a bitch, but I really don't appreciate some random sloshing his beer over my shirt.

"Maybe you should watch where you're going yourself," he says, sarcasm lacing his words. I huff in irritation and prepare for a retaliation, but then he speaks again. "I think I saw you around earlier with that deputy. What's his name…"

"Zack Shelby," I reply coolly, balancing the six-pack against my hip and fiddling in my bag for my car keys. "And mine's Vivian. I'm his sister."

The guy raises his eyebrows. "Dylan Massett. Listen, Vivian, aren't you a little young to be drinking?"

"What business is that of yours?" I demand. I really don't appreciate people sticking their noses in my affairs. I could never be a cop like Zack, because I think that people are perfectly entitled to their secrets. I've got mine, and Zack's the only one who knows about it. It's better off that way. Secrets get out, and people can't help but judge you for them.

"Look, sorry." Dylan holds up his hands defensively, as if I've pulled a gun on him and he's surrendering. "Just thought you were a bit young. But you could afford to buy your way out, I suppose. I'm guessing if you're a cop's sister you live somewhere pretty nice."

"Why would you assume that?" I frown, unlocking my car and dumping the six-pack in the back. "Where do you live?"

"Bates Motel." Dylan grimaces obviously. The name doesn't ring a bell with me, and he explains quickly. "Used to be the Seafairer Motel."

Oh. That one. I know Keith Summers used to run that place, it was a family business. But Keith Summers was a gross, fat slob who couldn't keep his living up. He's gone missing now apparently. I wouldn't be surprised if someone found him passed out in a ditch somewhere, drunk as usual. I have absolutely no respect for the man, and neither does Zack. Bad news, is what Zack is always saying in relation to Keith.

I'd met Norman, who had just started at White Pine Bay High and who I'd driven home from that party the other night. Now I remember Norman talking a bit about the motel. I feel stupid for forgetting. So obviously Dylan must know him. I hadn't known that they were advertising jobs there yet, or I'd have quit the bakery.

It suddenly occurs to me that I'm talking to a stranger in a dimly-lit carpark. What would Zack say? After what had happened when I was fifteen, he had always warned me to be careful – and that had been with people I'd known, people who belonged to this town. Dylan's only just moved here.

"Anyway. I'd better go." Suddenly wary, I slid into my car and close the door. Flicking through my iPod to my favourite playlist, I shove the gearstick into reverse and drive out of the carpark, never once looking back to see where Dylan's gone. He's pretty hot, but then again, a lot of guys in town are. My mistakes have shown me before that I can't just blindly trust people. As good-looking as Dylan is, I make a Zack choice and decide that he's bad news until he proves otherwise.

* * *

The Woodchuck Festival has always been a big thing in White Pine Bay, and as always, Zack is the star of the show. I'm used to it by now – even when our parents were alive, Zack was the golden boy. The stellar student who passed with excellent grades, biggest soccer star in the high school team. The girls loved him, the boys all wanted to be his best mate. Just because he'd chosen to become a cop didn't mean he'd lost that popularity. Everyone in White Pine Bay knew Zack. Everyone in White Pine Bay _loved_ Zack.

"She was so flirting with you," I say gleefully as Zack finally stops talking to a gum-chewing, dark-haired local journalist who's probably only a bit older than me. He'll be all over White Pine Bay Daily tomorrow. Front page, no doubt, as the Woodchuck Festival is. The combination of the festival and Zack is one many would consider to be irresistible.

"Oh, come on." Zack heads over to the car and unlocks it. I slide into the passenger seat, taking my hair out of its neat ponytail. "She was just getting the details."

"I swear, you haven't had a girlfriend in forever." I glance at Zack, raising my eyebrows. "What's with that?"

"Yeah, but…" Zack goes to reply, then his expression darkens. He turns the keys in the ignition and shakes his head. We both know what he was going to say: _not like you've had a boyfriend either._ We both know why that is. So neither of us comment. "Never mind."

We sit in silence as Zack drives us home. I drum my fingers against the window. The Woodchuck Festival is a big deal, but I'm not a huge fan. I only go because I know Zack loves it so much, and considering I wouldn't be caught dead at any of his work functions, I have to compromise somehow. Zack does a lot for me, so it's only fair that I give back. I watch the streetlights go past before Zack pulls into the driveway and kills the engine.

I eagerly get out of the car – don't get me wrong, the Woodchuck Festival isn't that bad, but it's been a tiring evening and I've got school in the morning. I grab my key out of my bag and go up to look the door, frowning when I open it to hear what sounds like thumping coming from the basement. It's been empty down there for ages, but it definitely doesn't sound like it. Maybe we're being robbed.

"Do you hear that?" I ask as Zack steps inside as well. Frowning, I head towards the basement door, but I only manage to set a hand on the doorknob before Zack snatches my hand away.

"Whoa. What are you doing, Viv?"

"Can't you hear that?" I draw back, the two of us lapsing into silence for a few moments. "There's something down there, I swear."

Zack heaves a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "You know the basement needs fixing up. It's in terrible condition down there, the wind probably just blew something over. Who knows what the previous house owner kept here? Look, you shouldn't worry about it. In fact, I'll take a look and see what needs fixing up, okay?"

My shoulders relax at his words. My brother the big bad cop. Of course it makes me feel better. Zack pulls me close and kisses the top of my head, before drawing back and gripping me by the shoulders.

"But seriously, go get some sleep. You've got school tomorrow."

"Don't remind me…" I grumble.

* * *

School. That one word that conjures trepidation in even the bravest of hearts. No but seriously, I know that I need a formal education and all of that, but there are some days when school seems…optional. Which is how I find myself skipping Geography (again) with Kennedy and some of the other girls. I already know what we're going to be doing, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. But I skipped because I know we're only revising a project I've already finished, so there was really no point me attending.

"I saw your brother at the Woodchuck Festival last night," Kennedy declares as she lights up a joint, inhaling the marijuana before passing the joint over to Claire. "He's so hot."

I roll my eyes. Yes, unfortunately, typical conversation generally seems to somehow involve how hot Zack is. Even I know my brother is good-looking. But it's just weird when he's eleven years older than us, so there's no way he'd ever go for Kennedy or anyone else our age. Claire offers me the joint, but I shake my head. Of course, refusal only ever amounts to peer pressure.

"Come on, Viv." Kennedy leans forward, blowing smoke in my face. I wrinkle my nose. "It's not going to kill you, you know."

"You know I don't like that stuff," I say curtly, not adding for how long. Everyone knows I've been weird since that one particular party two years back. They just don't know why. They've got no right knowing why.

"Whatever." Kennedy takes another puff, watching with raised eyebrows as I tug my Language Arts books out of my bag. I've got Miss Watson's class last and I don't feel like missing it, she's actually a pretty good teacher. Maybe my friends don't really give a shit about learning, and I'm not the biggest nerd around, but I do actually want to pass my subjects. "If you're going to study, we'll just be in the shops across the road trying some stuff on."

"Sure," I mutter. This is kind of commonplace by now. I watch the other girls get up and leave, taking care to dump the joint in the trash on their way across the road. Shaking my head, I lean over my textbooks and prepare to study. But of course, there always has to be some kind of interruption.

"Not going with your friends?"

I look up to see a familiar face – Dylan, the guy I literally bumped into outside the bottle shop the other night. I sigh and sit up, condemning myself to the fact that I'm actually not going to have my homework done by the time class comes around. Dylan's standing there with his hands in his pockets looking completely chill, and I resist the urge to tell him he really isn't as cool as he thinks.

"Nope." I pop the 'p'.

"What would Zack Shelby think if he saw his sister now, skipping class?" A slight smirk tugs at the corners of Dylan's lips. Obviously he's heard a bit about my brother now, probably from the local newspaper. I don't even attempt to resist the urge to roll my eyes. If I had a dollar for every time someone mentioned Zack when bringing up my truancy or other bad behaviour, I'd be able to buy a car.

"To be honest? I don't think he'd care all that much."

"You two must be close," Dylan remarks, removing his hands from his pockets and folding his arms over his chest. I can see Kennedy and the others in some high-end boutique across the street. "Your parents are dead, aren't they?"

"Yes," I reply testily, closing my book with a snap. It's been years since my parents died so I'm kind of over people mentioning it, it's just when people try and pry that it irritates me. Like Dylan is doing right now. "Why? What's it to you? You're new in town, aren't you?"

"Yeah, my mum owns the Bates Motel," Dylan admits, raking a hand through his hair, and I'm surprised. I had assumed that Dylan maybe worked at the Bates Motel, but it looks like Norma Bates is his mum, which probably made him related to Norman as well.

"So Norman Bates is your brother?" I ask.

"Half-brother," Dylan is all too quick to correct me, and it seems to me like the familial relations he possesses with the Bates aren't ones he's proud of. "We have different dads. You probably go to school with him, yeah?"

"We have Language Arts together," I state, shoving my books back in my bag. I'm not really sure what to make of Dylan. I have no idea why he approached me, especially considering he's only met me once before now. Maybe he has this warped idea that I'm someone he can talk to because I'm Zack's sister.

"Hey, Dylan." We both look up to see a man across the street – Ethan Chang. He gestures for Dylan to come on over and Dylan spares me one last glance before he walks over. I see the two men get involved in conversation, before heading over to a car and getting in. A smile curves my lips, because if Dylan's involved with Ethan, I know exactly what he does. Not exactly an operation secret to the cops, but I can always air his dirty laundry if he thinks he's going to be getting too close.

_Got you now, Dylan Massett._


	3. About A Belt

**Chapter Three: About A Belt**

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**A/N: Update time! I'm trying to update every week, but I can't guarantee anything with uni and work on my plate as well, so I'm trying to do my best :) I hope this chapter gives some more insight into what happened to Vivian, so now you know - or do you? ;)**

**Thanks a heap to my wonderful reviewers, and all of those who have taken the time to favourite and follow!**

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It isn't obvious that my brother has friends over, especially not lady friends. I've got my hair wrapped up in a messy bun, humming happily to myself. I think it's exciting that Zack might have a date. I've been teasing him about it all afternoon, although he won't tell me her name. It's meant to be a surprise, but it just makes me impatient. I probably know who she is anyway, so what's the point in keeping her name from me until she gets here?

"What time did she say she'd be around?" I call from the kitchen as I pull the tuna bake out of the oven. Although I'm not really the dating sort right now, it's nice for my brother to have someone. I almost thought he was gay. I can't help but snort. Okay, like anyone would actually ever assume that about Zack. He's pretty much as straight as an arrow.

"Seven," Zack calls back, and right on cue, there's a knock at the door. I eagerly whip off my apron and let me hair down, flattening it as Zack goes to answer the door. She must be some girl to have caught Zack's attention. Setting the bake down to cool, I lean out from the kitchen to see what's going on.

"Well, don't you look nice." Zack's got his flirtatious voice on now, and I can't help but grin. He opens the door wider. "Come in, dinner's almost ready."

"You mean it _is_ ready," I correct, watching as the blonde woman steps inside – wow. Okay, this I wasn't expecting. I had imagined a pretty brunette probably in her early twenties, but this is an elegant blonde likely in her early _forties_. A lot older than Zack for sure. I'm a little taken aback, but I still smile. "Hi. I'm Vivian Shelby, Zack's sister."

"You look about the same age as my son, Norman." The woman inspects me critically. "Do you go to White Pine Bay High?"

"I do," I reply, realising that this must be Norma Bates – Dylan's mum as well as Norman's. It's amazing how these things seem to connect, but in a town as small as White Pine Bay, it can't really be considered a surprise. I glance at Zack and raise my eyebrows, but he just shakes his head.

"Viv, can you get the table ready? I'm just going to talk to Norma for a little."

Talk to her? About what? I'm immediately curious and make to head for the kitchen, but instead linger outside the lounge. Is Norma Bates here for a date with Zack, or she here for some other reason? I frown and listen intently.

"Would you like a drink?" Zack asks. Okay, that's definitely a very 'guy on a date' thing to do. "What's your poison?"

_Poison._ He acts like that's what alcohol is for me, ever since the incident. I barely drink anymore. I can't stomach the taste of alcohol, although drugs are about ten times worse. I listen to Zack's footsteps pacing across the lounge room.

"Jack and coke okay?" Zack asks, after I hear what sounds like a drink being poured out into a glass. I roll my eyes. Okay, maybe I got excited for nothing. This sounds pretty boringly average to me. I rake a hand through my hair and prepare to head back into the kitchen…but then I hear Norma talking.

"So umm…what's the deal? I'm worried about my business, I'm worried about my boy, what's going on?"

_Yes that, Norma Bates, is a very good question._ Any plans of setting up knives and forks and putting the tuna bake on the dining room table go out the window. I knew that there was more to the story than just Zack having some woman over for dinner, some woman he'd never mentioned in the past. Norma Bates is here for a reason, and it's my house, so I want to know what that reason is.

"Well. How about we start with you telling me about the belt?"

"What belt?" Norma inquires, echoing my train of thought exactly.

"Don't do that," Zack says, but his voice is gentle, harmless, "If we're going to help each other, we have got to be honest with each other, that is the only thing that matters to me, Norma, is honesty. So please tell me, why did your son have Keith's belt under his bed?"

I clamp a hand over my mouth. I remember Zack talking on the phone to Romero about how Keith Summers, the previous owner of the motel that Norma now owned, had gone missing. But if Norma had his belt…well, one of her sons did. Did Zack mean Dylan? I was more inclined to believe that it was Norman.

"That Romero, he's got it out for me," Norma sounded upset now.

Zack sighed. "Romero never saw the belt, I found it. I took it. So no one else knows."

_Except now I do._ I bit my lip. Whatever was happening, it was definitely something Zack didn't want me knowing about. I pressed myself against the wall as though it would somehow help my hearing.

"Keith was a bully. Guy had a hell of a temper. I notice you have a bit of a temper yourself."

_Enough with the flirting, Zack, I want to hear more._ Did Norma have something to do with Keith's disappearance? Now I definitely suspect foul play, but I was no cop. Puzzling it out, I decide it's about time I got back to the kitchen and legitimately prepared the tuna bake to be eaten. Just as well too, because I was pretty sure Zack and Norma were making out.

* * *

My car is possibly the most ancient thing I own. It's older than me, it's possibly even older than Zack. Sometimes it sputters. It needs regular checks. Which is why it really shouldn't be a surprise to me that, halfway home from school, my car decides to break down and die. I try and restart it a few times, groaning in irritation, before realising that I'm just going to have to walk. It's only a few miles home, but it's still not something I'm looking forward to.

Getting out of the car, I hoist my schoolbag over my shoulder and condemn myself to the fact that I'm going to miss a good hour of homework – something most other kids my age would jump for joy about. I give my car one last frustrated kick to express how pissed off I am. Bloody thing could have broken down on one of my trips to the corner store but no, it had to be on the way home from school.

I've only been walking about two minutes when I hear the distinct annoying buzz of a motorbike. I ignore it, thinking it's going to pass me by, but I sigh heavily when it slows down. Of course, they probably recognised me as Zack's sister. Everyone wants to be a good Samaritan if it will keep them out of trouble with the cops. But when I glance over my shoulder, I see that it's actually Dylan who has pulled up next to me, and I raise my eyebrows.

"Afternoon. Any particular reason you stopped?"

"Any particular reason you're walking?" Dylan counters.

I jerk a thumb behind me. "Car broke down."

"Ah." Dylan glances at me, and then at his motorbike. "Well, hope on."

I raise my eyebrows. I haven't been on the back of a motorbike for…a long time. I'm worried that my bag is going to throw me off balance. It just doesn't seem safe, but I notice Dylan offering me a spare helmet. Well, that helps, because I definitely would have refused if there was no helmet. I don't like the idea of my skull being split open like an egg if we crash.

"I don't know if that's a good idea…"

"Come on, you can direct me." Dylan revs the motorbike and offers me a grin. I sigh heavily and jam the helmet over my head, climbing on the back of the bike. Okay, this is the awkward part – having to wrap my arms around his waist tight to hold on. Dylan's leather jacket rubs against my skin as he revs it and speeds off down the road. He's definitely a speed demon, that's for sure.

"Be careful or you'll get pulled over!" I yell over the wind, but he just laughs. It doesn't take too long to get back to mine, and I can see that Zack's car is gone – he's obviously on duty. I sigh and climb off the bike, dearly hoping that Dylan doesn't hope I'm going to invite him in. I just don't do that with guys, not when Zack isn't around. A group is another matter, of course.

"Thanks for the ride." I tug the helmet off, wincing as it snags in my hair. I hand it to him, running a hand through the horrible mane to get tangles out of it. "I'll talk to Zack and see what I should do about the car. Although I'm pretty certain that it's permanently dead. Maybe I should have a funeral and scatter its ashes."

Dylan shakes his head. "You're a strange girl."

"And proud of it," I state, feigning puffing out my chest.

"Look, if you need a ride, I'm happy to help." Dylan reaches a hand out, and I realise his eyes are on my phone. Sighing, I hand it over and let Dylan tap in his number. He hands it back and I grow bold, reaching my hand out in turn.

"If you need me to bail your ass out of issues with the law, so am I."

"Why would I need help with the law?" Dylan frowns, handing over his phone. I remain silent for a few moments while I tap in my details, before I return his phone.

"Because I know what you do for a living." Dylan's eyes flash with panic, but I roll my eyes. He obviously hasn't been in White Pine Bay for very long if he thinks it's something to freak out about. The marijuana fields are common knowledge. They make this town's economy function. "Don't stress about it. Usually things are fine. But if you ever do get in a sticky situation…well, I could help you."

Dylan nods slowly. "Okay, thanks. I'll see you around?"

It's definitely a question. He sounds so uncertain. It makes me grin.

"Maybe."

* * *

_It's the morning after the night from hell. Over and over again, it doesn't stop haunting me – not because of what happened, but because I don't know, because I can't remember. My eyes unglue themselves and I feel like absolute shit, my body feeling like it's battered. My head throbs like something's trying to push its way out, but it's only when I sit up that I feel searing pain down lower, and I know that something is horribly wrong. I panic._

"_Zack!"_

_Because at fifteen years old, all I know is to call out to my older brother when I'm in trouble. Back when I was fragile, when I didn't know that if you don't want to break, you have to bend. Now I'm dangerously bent, and I don't need my brother's help to stop me from breaking anymore. But then…I didn't know any better._

_He comes racing into my room and sees me doubled over, hand pressed to my lower stomach, and he looks extremely concerned. I throw back the sheets and look down, and I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming. Blood stains the sheets, paints the insides of my thighs an ominous crimson. I look up at Zack with complete shock, but we both know what it means._

"_Did you have sex with someone last night?" Zack asks, gripping my shoulders. "At the party?"_

"_I…I don't know." That knowledge hits me hard, with the force of a bullet. If I'd known, it would have been better. Had it been consensual, or had I been…no, I couldn't even bear thinking about it. I start to get hysterical, because I can't believe this is happening and I'm so angry at myself for not even being able to remember how. "I don't…Zack, I can't remember a thing. After a bit at the party, it all starts to blur, it blurs, Zack…"_

"_Hey, hey, ssh." Zack sits beside me on the bed, tentatively putting a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright, sweetheart. We'll find out what happened. Okay?"_

I jerk awake, in a prison of sheets and covered in sweat. I gasp for breath as I stop my mind from replaying the horrible memory. The confusion was what made it so bad, and two years later, Zack had never found out who had done it to me. I was never sure if it was rape or not, but considering I was high on drugs, consent didn't exactly count for anything.

Since then, I knew that the only person I could trust was Zack. I never did drugs, I barely smoked. I grew wiser, because I knew that I could never let someone else take advantage of me like that again. I barely let guys touch me. My friends didn't know the reason – or maybe they did but didn't want to talk about it. No one ever said anything about the party, so I assume whoever took my virginity must have buggered off pretty quickly after he did it.

I would be happier if I knew. Not even who did it, but just the circumstances. If I had been willing, or if there hadn't been any consent on my part. It was the mystery that had gone on for two years and was still unsolved. Zack told me not to bring it up with the other cops, they already had a lot going on and he was going to deal with it…but then why hadn't he? Why didn't he have answers?

Maybe I hadn't been raped. Maybe the blood was from something else, but it definitely felt like I'd been hurt somehow that night. I don't want to pester Zack, because I know the memory of seeing me in that condition hurt him too…but it's getting to the stage where I'm frustrated. I want the truth. I want to just remember what happened that night…or do I?

The thumping begins down in the basement, and I clamp my hands over my ears.


	4. Down In The Basement

**Chapter Four: Down In The Basement**

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** A/N: So, here's the next chapter! I should have the fifth done just after the next episode, but I'll see how this one fares first ;) Sorry if it's a little boring! There are some hints in this about who/what happened to Vivian, if you look closely enough :P Please review!**

* * *

It's pretty normal to hear noises in the house when you're home alone, right? That's what I always remind myself. I'm not the kind of person who's freaked out easily, but when Zack's out it's like every little noise could be some crazy come to attack me. The sound of a window unlatching, though, is definitely not one of those little noises I laugh at myself for jumping at. I launch myself out of bed and tiptoe quietly into Zack's room. I mean, he's a cop. I know he keeps a spare gun around just in case.

I take a deep breath and rake my hair back. I know how to switch the safety off. I know how to pull the trigger. I don't really want to have to kill an intruder though. My hands are shaking as I step out of Zack's room, peering around. Why do I have the feeling like I'm in some kind of cheesy horror movie? I keep the safety on for now, just in case I do something stupid like shoot myself in the foot.

I hear cupboards opening and closing, with some rummaging, as I head quietly downstairs. Okay, so it seems like it's a burglar. I'm hoping they don't have a gun too. The last thing I want is this to turn into some Wild West shoot-out in my house. Taking a deep breath and forcing my terrified limbs into action, I keep padding down the stairs – only to freeze and run back up when I see a dim light and hear footsteps headed towards me.

Wow, I'm such a coward. I slide in behind the bathroom door and don't make a sound, still deciding it's probably not such a good idea for me to flick the safety off. _Breathe in, breathe out._ My best option is probably to call Zack, something that ironically I only think of _after_ I've grabbed his gun and attempted to hunt down the intruder myself. Typical. But I can't move now, because the footsteps are headed past me into Zack's room.

Now's the time. I have to act now, catch them off guard. Taking a deep breath and squeezing out from behind the bathroom door, I charge into Zack's room, pointing the gun at the intruder. He jumps and whips around, the keys that had been in his hand jingling as they fall to the carpet. Holy shit, it's Norman Bates.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?!" I demand, hoping that I sound and look threatening with a gun levelled with his chest. I step forward to scoop the keys up off the floor from where he dropped them. My hands are shaking, but I really hope Norman doesn't notice. He stares at me, wide-eyed. "Well?"

"I…I was looking for something," Norman stammers.

"You mean the belt?" I say, feeling somewhat triumphant. I want Norman to think I know something, and his eyes flash with panic. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, but I can see that alarm has come across his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not here to find a belt."

"Stop lying." I roll my eyes, heaving a deep sigh and lowering the gun. Norman just looks so stressed out that the last thing he needs is a gun right in his face. I jingle the keys meaningfully. "I heard the conversation between Zack and your mum, okay? Look I don't know what the deal is, but you're breaking and entering private property. You'll be lucky if I don't tell Zack. That belt is police property now, you're even luckier that Zack hasn't told Romero about it yet."

"Keith Summers raped my mum!" Norman exclaims. "She didn't mean it, what was she supposed to do?"

He looks shocked at what he's just admitted: that Norma did in fact kill Keith Summers. But the mention of that dirty old grub raping her makes me so mad, because I feel like I can relate to that, even if the incident when I was fifteen is different. Suddenly, something snaps and I want to help Norman find the belt. I _want_ to help the Bates get away with murder, if only because of the fact that Keith raped Norma. My mindset makes no sense, and I can't explain it. Zack has helped them, and maybe I can too.

"I thought it might be in the basement, but the door was locked," Norman stated, causing me to frown. The basement is a mess, Zack said so himself…but was that really why he didn't want me to go down there? Maybe he was hiding things from me. Deciding to find out once and for all, I flipped through the keys until I found the one that matched the basement door.

"Well, we can go and find out."

I head downstairs, gun shoved into the front of my pyjama pants and keys swinging in my hand. I was a little nervous about disobeying Zack, but at the same time, it really felt like my brother was keeping things from me. He'd never even made a mention about why Norma had come over, and I wouldn't have known about the belt or Keith Summers if I hadn't been eavesdropping. Sometimes, a little curiosity is a good thing.

I crunch the keys in the door until it clicks, and I push it open and gesture to Norman. After all, he's the one with a light on his phone. He swallows and steps into the darkness and I follow, being careful I ascend the stairs into the basement. But there is some light – I squint and see what looks like an entire workshop in the basement, with a dim lamp hanging over it. I frown and brush my fingers over the cold metal of Zack's gun.

"Look, over there." Norman flicks a switch and a small light goes on, reflecting off a disco ball and causing fragmented light to shine over the basement. There's a deep unease in my stomach as I notice a couch strewn with pillows, and a couple of cameras and a TV. What the hell is Zack doing down here? The basement is far from the mess he claimed it was. Looks like my older brother has not only been keeping things from me, but also actively lying to me. That notion makes me angry.

I help Norman shift the TV and cabinet, and he steps forward to unbolt the door that it was in front of. I wrap my arms around myself, unable to shake the feeling that something is wrong about all of this. Sure, maybe Zack just wanted his own space in the basement that he didn't want me knowing about. But why? What's going on down here that's so important or secret he can't even tell his little sister about it? Is it some kind of private police business?

Norman flicks a light on – and what I see makes me clamp my hands over my mouth, because otherwise I know I would scream. It's a dimly-lit room with a small bed and cabinet in one corner. That's not what causes me to panic. There's a dark-haired girl sprawled across a beanbag in only a shirt and a pair of undies. As Norman creeps closer I can see she's distinctly Asian in appearance, and there's…there's a chain around her ankle.

Norman shakes the girl and asks if she's alright, but I can only stand in the doorway, frozen in horror. My brother has an Asian girl chained up in the basement. I should have doubts as to why, but the cameras…the bed…her state of undress. I feel sick to the stomach, and feel bile rising in my throat. Why would Zack do this to someone? Especially because he knows what happened to me. He knows that someone hurt me, so why would he do it to another young girl?

"Help me," the girl croaks, gripping Norman's wrist and looking up at him with huge, frightened eyes. What has Zack done to her? Her skin is pallid and bruised, her arms covered with what look like tiny pinpricks from a needle point. I want to scream or cry, but I do neither. I just stand there and stare in horror, realising that my brother isn't the good guy like I always thought he was. In fact, Zack might just be the bad guy.

The sound of the door closing makes me freeze. Zack is here. He's back from work. I hurry over to Norman, gripping his arm. Zack can't know that we were down here, he can't know that Norman was in the house. He turns away from the Asian girl, who I feel a pang of sympathy for.

"Look. I'll go distract Zack. You have to get out of here, okay?"

Before Norman can reply, the doorbell rings. I frown and throw Norman a meaningful glance, before I stumble out of the room and head up from the basement. My whole body is shaking, my knees especially. I've dug up the horrors that Zack doesn't want to share with me, and I understand now why. Unless I've got things completely wrong, my brother is a bad man. An immoral man.

I pad over and pretend to rub my eyes as Zack opens the door, discretely sliding Zack's gun onto the kitchen bench. I can answer questions about that later. I'm a little astounded when Zack opens the door to reveal Dylan standing there. I frown, wondering if Dylan was Norman's accomplice in this. From what I knew the two weren't close, but maybe I was wrong.

"Hey." Dylan grins, but I can see it's forced. "Look, I'm sorry to bother you, but my bike just ran out of gas. Can you tell me where there's a gas station?"

"Hi, Dylan," I state, causing Zack to glance over his shoulder at me. It's so he knows I'm right here, and that I actually know this guy at the door. That we can trust him. Although trust is a word I can't even associate with Zack anymore. That hits me like a punch to the gut.

"Dylan?" Zack frowns, glancing between us. "You two know each other."

"Well, yeah." I rake my hair out of my face. "My car died, remember? Dylan's the one who gave me a lift home."

Zack's brow furrows, and he looks less than impressed. His gaze turns back on Dylan and he folds his arms over his chest.

"Are you here to see my sister? Is that it?"

"What? No!" Dylan laughs uneasily, and I glare at Zack. He's not normally so overprotective, but that's because I don't usually mention any guys that I know. I can see why he isn't taking well to Dylan, but I'm not siding with Zack. Not tonight when I know his dirty little secret. "Seriously, I was just looking for a gas station."

"Just down the road," Zack comments brusquely, before he shuts the door and turns to face me. I know that I have to play the bashful teenager, even though I'm sick of acting. I want to confront Zack and demand answers, to shout at him and hit him for what he's done. But now's not the right time. So instead I brush my hair behind my ear and lower my eyes.

"What?" I grin up at his glare, although it feels more like a grimace. "I'm not allowed to hitch rides home with boys now? Come on, you know his mum. It's not like he's a total stranger."

"You should go back to bed, it's late," Zack states coolly. I heave a sigh but head upstairs anyway, all too eager to settle in my room. I close the door and lean against it, resting my head against the water and fighting back tears. The Zack I thought I knew is an illusion. He's not real. I get the terrifying feeling that there's something much darker under the surface, and that I've only started to scratch that surface with the discovery of the girl in the basement.


	5. Friends With Benefits

**Chapter Five: Friends With Benefits**

* * *

**A/N: So, another chapter! Ugh who saw the episode, I'm totally worried for Dylan right now! Anyway, without further ado, here's the new chapter...I added a Dylan POV at the end but I'm not sure about it, I just wanted to sort of explore how he sees Vivian. Let me know what you think. **

* * *

It hasn't been so long since Norman and I found the girl in the basement, but it's having a big effect on me psychologically. I can't understand why, but I figure it's got to do with the fact that I haven't said anything to Zack, and that's eating away at me on the inside. I just about jump as I hear Miss Watson calling my name and I shake my head, bringing myself crashing back into reality.

"Are you alright, Vivian?" Miss Watson asks, sounding concerned. She's always been one of my favourite teachers. Miss Watson actually cares about her students, which is more than I can say for a lot of other teachers in this hellhole of a high school.

"Yeah." I clear my throat when I realise my voice is hoarse. "I'm fine."

"Okay." She doesn't sound too convinced. "I'd like to speak with you after class about your pop quiz result."

I nod slowly, but that only gives me something else to stress about. I've been trying to think about how best to approach Zack about the sex slave, but I'm so disgusted at him. I've been avoiding him, because despite the fact that he hasn't changed the way he acts towards me, I'm fully aware that my big brother is in fact a very depraved individual.

The bell finally rings and I gather my books, shoving them in my bag and taking my time doing it. Bradley gives me a questioning glance, but I ignore her. I don't really want to explain my strange behaviour. Taking a deep breath, I rake a hand through my blonde hair and walk up to the front of the class, where Miss Watson is holding my pop quiz. My heart is hammering in my chest as she turns it around to reveal a horrific 35%. What the hell? How could I possibly get such a low score?

"I know this isn't typical of you, Vivian." Miss Watson props herself against her desk. "You're a very hard-working student and I don't think you've ever failed any of your assessments before. Which is why this mark concerns me. You know these things. We went over them in class last week. Is there something going on at home?"

I lick my dry lips. Hell, I can't possibly up and say 'yeah actually, my brother is hiding a sex slave in his basement'. That shit is like fifty shades of illegal. Since my parents died, teachers have always assumed it would be a struggle for Zack to raise me by himself. It wasn't. Yet now seemed the ideal time to play that card.

"You know…it's just me and Zack. We're eleven years apart and we've been having a few differences."

"Oh, I completely understand that." Miss Watson is sympathetic. "I know it's been…difficult, since you two lost your parents. It's probably just a rough patch you're going through. If you need any help, or extra tutoring, let me know. I don't want to have to give you another fail."

In all honesty, I'm relieved I've gotten off so lightly. Another teacher would probably insist on keeping me back and scolding me for an hour. I offer Miss Watson a relieved smile, brushing my hair out of my face.

"Okay. Yeah, sure. Thanks, Miss Watson."

* * *

I head back home after school and I have to admit that I'm a little annoyed to find that Norma Bates is in the kitchen talking to Zack. I wonder if it's about the belt? I doubt it by the way they're chatting openly and laughing. Bet she has no idea about what my brother keeps in his basement. Zack looks at me as I shut the front and dump my bag, raising his eyebrows.

"Hey, Viv, how would you feel about going to the Bates Motel?"

"What?" I work my hair free of its practical braid. What exactly is my brother trying to suggest. "You mean living there?"

"No, I mean working there," Zack glances at Norma and then back at me. "Norma says there's some work to be done there, and she's willing to give you a permanent job there if you do some initial start-up stuff to help out."

A job is always good, but I can't help but feel there's an ulterior motive. Why else would I be offered a job right out of the blue? Norma doesn't even know me, and I doubt Zack has spoken so highly of me that she felt she just _had_ to employ me. I gnaw at my lip, heading to the fridge to grab a cool drink.

"Um. Yeah, that sounds cool."

"Would you mind heading over now?" Zack asks, and I turn and glare at him. So that's it. He wants me out of the house, probably so he can have sex with Norma or something devious like that. Besides, it's not like my car is exactly functioning properly. I jump on that last train of thought.

"My car's dead, remember? I don't exactly have the money for a new one…"

Zack shrugs. "Just take mine."

Wow, my argument has so quickly become invalid. I scowl and take the keys from Zack. If he wants me gone so badly, fine. But after Norma leaves, I'm determined that I'm going to talk to him. My expression must be hard as rock, because Zack looks somewhat apologetic.

"Don't look like that, Viv."

"Whatever." I heft up my bag and head out to Zack's car, making a mental note that I shouldn't be bothered driving carefully because whatever happens can be Zack's fault for making me go. It isn't far to the Bates Motel – I remember when it was under Keith Summers' ownership, but when I pull up, I can see that it looks remarkably better than the rundown old motel I remember. Looks like a lot of work has already been done on it.

Getting out of Zack's car, I lock it and head over to the office. It's late, so of course no one's in there. Huffing in irritation, I jam my hands into my pockets. Looks like I'm going to have to head up to the house. It's pretty embarrassing, but I comfort myself in the knowledge that I know both Dylan and Norman relatively well. I hesitate and then press the doorbell, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I wait for someone to answer the door.

"Vivian." Dylan looks surprised to see me. Obviously this whole sending me to Bates Motel had been a spontaneous idea. "What's up?"

"Your mum wanted me to come over so she can have sex with my brother." I decide that I'm going to put it bluntly. I'm not glossing over things for Zack's sake, and Dylan deserves to know what his mum is out doing. "They made out there was some stuff that needed doing here. So, how can I help?"

"Come in." Dylan pushes the door open wider and I walk inside, taking the place in. It's a lot bigger than the house I share with Zack, and probably a lot older too. Dylan leads me through to the kitchen, and I dump my bag in the corner. He leans against the counter, and I can see that he's watching me closely. I can't help but raise my eyebrows in response.

"What?"

"Well, there isn't any work at the moment." Dylan shrugs his shoulders. "So we could watch some TV. Or something."

"TV is cool," I state. Well, this is kind of awkward. Although I have to admit that practically being given the opportunity to spend the night hanging out with a hot guy is a good one – but I know that nothing is going to happen between me and Dylan. I'm not that kind of girl. I'm not Bradley Martin.

I flop down on the couch beside Dylan as he turns on the TV. I glance at him, taking in his features. If I was actually interested in dating guys, he would be one hell of a catch. Hot, funny at times, earns a lot in his job. Not a sleaze, which was definitely a plus. I look at the TV before Dylan can catch me staring, but he speaks up only moments later.

"You know, weird as this probably sounds, you're pretty cool to hang around with."

"Oh yeah?" I glance at him, raising my eyebrows. "We've only hung out a grand total of, I don't know…a few times."

Dylan cracks a smile. "But that's just it. You seem different to other girls around here. Most of them are so concerned about how they look and what people think of them…but you're just…I don't know. You're really funny for a start."

"I am?" That surprises me a little. I make my friends laugh from time to time, but I never really thought I classified as court jester material or anything. "Well, thanks. I mean, you're a pretty cool guy."

"I think I'd like to hang out more," Dylan declares – wait, what? This is totally weird. Most guys either keep their distance, or try and get in my pants way too fast. None of them suggest we hang out. Then again, Dylan is older. I can't help but crack a smile, knowing that I would definitely enjoy it if we did hang out more.

"Yeah, that'd be awesome. Guess there are some benefits to your mum, you know, being out and doing my brother…"

Dylan laughs, and that's when I realise how close we are. He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. Okay, this is new. Then Dylan's lips are pressing against mine, but it's _different._ It's not in the mad, desperate way that teenage boys collide with me at parties, hands and tongues everywhere. It's slower, tender. Dylan isn't rushing anything. I realise then that I'm kissing back, that I've pressed closer to him to better enjoy the feeling of his lips on mine.

My arms somehow work themselves around his neck, and I realise that I've come dangerously close to slipping into his lap. God, he's probably going to think I'm some kind of desperate harlot. But the truth is, kissing Dylan is a lot better than I thought it would be, a lot better than most of the other kisses I've ever had.

It's been a long time since anyone has kissed me like Dylan is kissing me now. Instead of fisting a hand in my hair like so many of the immature morons in my year tend to do with girls, Dylan takes my face in his hands and deepens the kiss. His lips against mine are addictive, like some kind of drug. But at the same time, the fact that I want it so much frightens me, and I draw back.

"Shit." Dylan rakes a hand through his hair as I part contact, and he looks guilty. "I screwed up, didn't I? I went too fast…"

"No," I reply, before slapping a hand to my forehead. "Well, yes. It was a bit fast. But no, you didn't screw up."

I consider telling him about the girl in the basement, but then I push the thought away as madness. I might know Dylan fairly well by now, but I can't trust him with Zack's secret. The only reason that anyone aside from me knows is because Norman was right there with me. Otherwise, it would definitely be something I would rather keep to myself. No, the best option is to talk to Zack and figure out his side of the story.

"Well, it's getting kinda late." Dylan gets to his feet abruptly and I wonder if I messed up by pulling away from him. "You know, we have plenty of spare rooms if you want to stay over."

I'm not sure when Norma is going to be getting home, and I haven't gotten so much as a text from Zack. I know that he would hate the idea of me staying over at a house when only guys are around, and a devious smile plays about my lips. For that exact reason, I nod my head fervently.

"Sure. A room would be great."

* * *

**Dylan's POV**

Vivian Shelby is possibly the weirdest, wildest and most amazing girl I've met so far in White Pine Bay. I honestly don't know what it is about her, but I'm completely caught in her web. I head into the kitchen and grab a beer as Vivian heads up to the spare room to go to bed. God, it was stupid of me to kiss her, though. It was so sudden and I didn't even think, she had every right to pull away from me and I think I would actually have been more disappointed if she hadn't.

Of course, if I ever want to date Vivian, I'll have to go through Zack. That's definitely going to be a challenge – wait, going to be. I mentally slap myself. I'm already thinking like I'm in a relationship with Vivian, just because I kissed her once. Now I'm just acting like some kind of hormonal teenage boy. I need to be ready to take things slow, because Vivian isn't one of those girls who's going to jump me the second I ask.

There's also something else about her, a wariness that I don't quite get. Despite her often rebellious ways, she tends to come crashing back down to earth and hesitates. There's an anchor holding her back. A bad experience or person has caused her to become cautious, and I have to respect that, and respect the fact that while I've assumed that much, Vivian isn't exactly going to want to discuss it. That's fine – if there are personal issues she has, she doesn't need to talk to me about them.

I rake a hand through my hair and take a deep gulp of beer. Hell, she isn't even legal…not that it ever stopped me. But Vivian is seventeen and I'm nearly twenty-two. Although it's only a five-year age gap, I have to consider that she's only a teenager and she's still in high school.

I'm totally overthinking things. I take another sip of beer and decide that for now, Vivian and I are strictly going to be friends until she specifies that she wants to be something more. I can handle that. I'm pretty sure.


	6. We Press For The Pain

**Chapter Six: We Press For The Pain**

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**A/N: So, finally a new chapter! Hope you guys enjoy this - things are going to go downhill with Zack from here on out, and there will be a big secret exposed within the next few chapters. Hope you enjoy :)**

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I don't know what time Norma gets back during the night, but when I head downstairs and into the kitchen, she's there making pancakes. The smell fills the house and I'm reminded of when Mum used to wake Zack and I up with pancakes on Saturday mornings. I'm filled with a pang of sadness, but I quickly push it away. My parents have been gone for years now. It doesn't do me any good thinking about them. I sweep my hair up into a practical ponytail.

"Morning, Vivian." Norma seems quite chirpy as she flips a pancake. "Do you want some breakfast?"

"Yeah, that'd be lovely." I hesitate, then sink into a chair. I'm thinking maybe it's time I told Norma that Zack isn't the only one who knows the truth. I take a deep breath and inhale the pancakes. "Norma, is it okay if I tell you something?"

"Sure," Norma replies. I wonder if she's genuinely nice, or if she's just acting this way because she's screwing my brother so she figures she kind of _has_ to make an effort with me. "What is it, honey?"

"I just wanted you to know that…" I lick my lips and take the plunge. "I know about the belt too."

Norma looks a bit stunned, and I'm hoping she doesn't ask how. I won't lie and say Zack told me, but I also don't want to tell the truth. She wouldn't exactly be impressed with the idea of me eavesdropping on the conversation. Norma busies herself pouring syrup on my pancakes, walking over and handing me the plate. I mumble a thanks, and she sits in the chair opposite, regarding me closely. I want to like Norma, but there's something about her that seems…off.

"Norman says you helped him try and find the belt. Why would you do that?"

It seems like I'm not the only one who knows surprising things. Looks like Norman told his mum that I helped him out. Not that I have a problem with that, but if word gets back to Zack, and he realises that I was in the basement – but he wouldn't. Because Norma wouldn't want him knowing that Norman had broken into our house, right? So of course she wouldn't tell him.

"Because, I guess I had good reason to." I wonder if Norma is going to question me further, and if I would tell her the truth. But I guess, considering I know Zack is hiding things, it's made me sick of lying and being secretive. What happened to me is not exactly a big secret, it just so happens that only Zack and I know. Well, and whoever did it to me. "I guess…when I found out that Keith Summers had raped you, that really hit me hard."

Norma frowns slightly. "Why's that?"

"When I was fifteen…something happened." I've acknowledged it's time for the truth to come out, but I still can't meet Norma's eyes when I say it. Instead I focus on my pancakes. They do look pretty damn good. "It was the anniversary of my parents' death and I really just wanted to get out and let loose. So I did. Sometime during the party I went to, I was drugged up. I woke up the next morning and found out that…"

I hesitate, and I suddenly realise I shouldn't. There's no doubt about what happened to me: I woke up with blood between my legs, and it was sore there. Someone had sex with me, and I was too drugged to do anything about it. There's no question of consent. I was raped, and it's time to face that fact and stop trying to pretend it might have been something else.

"That I was raped."

"Oh, sweetheart." Norma does look sympathetic. "Zack…he never said anything about that. I'm so sorry, that must have been so horrible…"

It doesn't surprise me that Zack didn't mention it. It's pretty much a family secret, so no matter how much he likes Norma, he wouldn't tell her. Just like he would never tell me that he's keeping a sex slave in the basement. I just nod my head, because at this point in time, it doesn't make me feel anything. I used to be frustrated and confused, but almost three years later, I don't think I'll ever find out who did it to me. Some loose ends never tie together. That's what Zack says.

"I'm kind of glad that I don't remember any of it."

There's pity in Norma's eyes, but something else there as well, like she understands how I feel. I don't want to question her about it – if she had something to say, she'd have said it. Somewhat awkwardly, I rake my hair back and get to my feet, putting my plate in the kitchen. Zack probably won't be too happy about me having stayed over anyway, so I should probably get home. I feel as though I've already said too much too soon.

"Um, thanks for the pancakes, Norma. I should probably head home."

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"You're spending bonding time with Norman?" I ask incredulously, when I come home to find out that Zack is heading out for the afternoon to go fishing with Norman. Wow, things must be pretty serious with him and Norma if he's taking her son fishing. Looks like I know what's for dinner at least. I fold my arms and lean against the bench as I watch him pack in the bait. "That's new."

"Mmhmm." Zack seems pretty distracted by what he's doing, so I lick my dry lips and decide to take the leap. Now is probably the best time to mention the girl in the basement, because Zack is going out this afternoon anyway so he can't hang around to be upset with me for finding out. I'm hoping there's some kind of wild yet logical explanation, that Zack has some kind of actual reason for keeping her there. But I feel sick to the stomach knowing that there probably isn't one.

"Zack? There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yeah?" Zack looks up from the icy box of bait, suddenly concerned. It's such a typical big brother thing that it breaks my heart. It's obvious that he cares about me a lot, and is worried that something's happened to me. "Did something happen with Dylan? Did he try anything?"

"No," I lie, knowing that bringing up the fact that Dylan and I kissed probably isn't a good idea right now. "It's about…look, the other night I heard noises coming from downstairs. So…I went down into the basement. I found the girl in there, Zack. I know everything. Please, just…tell me why. I just want to know why, okay?"

Zack's entire frame tenses, and I grip the bench behind me with both hands as he rises to his feet. There's a scared look in his eyes, but I'm somewhat astonished to see that there isn't any shame there. Doesn't he care about the fact that what he's done is wrong? I bite down on my lip as I watch my brother rake his hands through his hair, clearly shaken.

"Well, fuck."

"I just don't understand, Zack." My voice breaks and it's like everything has come crashing down on top of me. It's all become a frightening reality that I don't know how to deal with. My brother has always been my protector, and now I find out that he has a sex slave maybe a year or two older than me. How could he drug someone up and do that to them? "Why would you do that to anyone?"

"Listen to me, Vivian." Zack surges forward and grabs my upper arms, the tightness of his grip causing me to wince. I'm suddenly scared at the wildness in his eyes. This isn't the man who raised me. This is a completely different side to Zack that he normally doesn't show me. "No one is going to find out about this. _No one._ You don't say anything to anyone, do you get it?"

"Then you must be planning on letting her go," I say boldly, trying to sound braver than I feel. Because I know if Zack keeps that girl down there, I won't be able to keep my mouth shut. I was raped a few years back, and then I find out that Zack is pretty much raping this girl _in our own home._ A wave of nausea comes over me, but I swallow the bile.

Zack's hand connects with my cheek. He immediately steps backwards, realising the gravity of what he's done. I turn my face, touching my throbbing cheek. I couldn't see it before, the dark side of Zack, the side that would intentionally hurt people. But I see it now, and it frightens me more than anything else. My big brother just hit me. I can't help but feel betrayed. Zack's expression is guilty, but his jaw remains clenched.

"Viv, I'm sorry…I just…people can't know. This has to be our secret. Okay? Vivian? Okay?"

But I can't answer. I feel like if I open my mouth, I'm going to burst into tears. I've said my piece, but Zack still hasn't said whether he's going to get rid of the girl. I want to ask him, to beg him, but I'm worried he's going to hit me again. What has he turned into? When did the brother I thought I loved and trusted turn into a monster? I take a deep, shaky breath, and keep my eyes on the ground.

"Vivian?" Zack approaches me slowly, tentatively. I know he won't hurt me again, that his anger is fading, but that doesn't stop me from pushing at him, shoving him aside and brushing past him. Tears now run freely down my cheeks, because there was one person in White Pine Bay that I thought I could rely on. I trusted him with everything, and he turned out to the person I should have been the most wary of.

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**Dylan's POV**

I start counting out money as the last of the groceries are scanned. Hell, it's not like I've got a shortage of the stuff, not with my new job. It's only when I've paid for the groceries and am lugging them out to the car that I see a familiar blonde girl striding across the carpark. She's headed towards the bus stop – that's right, I had totally forgotten that Vivian's car was pretty much dead.

"Hey, Vivian!"

She turns to face me, hands in her pockets. I pause, seeing the bruise on her left cheek. What the hell happened there? Shoving the last of the groceries in the boot, I slam it shut and head over to her. She watches me warily and I can tell that something has happened. She looks pretty miserable, and her eyes are bright like she's been crying. I want to reach out, but I get the feeling she'll push me away.

"You okay?"

"Just peachy," Vivian replies flatly, raking a hand through her blonde hair. "Um, is your mum still cool with employing me? Because you know, I'm going to need hours down and…I totally forgot to ask her before I left the other day. I know it's not up to you but, reckon you could find out for me?"

"Yeah, sure," I reply, inspecting her again. "Look about the other night…I didn't mean to freak you out, and I'm sorry if I did. So I wanted to let you know it doesn't have to be awkward. If you just want to be friends – well, I'm okay with that."

"Friends sounds nice," Vivian says, but there's something miserable in her tone despite her small smile. I've seen her hanging around with Bradley – who's obviously very popular in high school. But despite that, Vivian seems different. She's a dreamer. She's different from girls like Bradley, and that's what interests me about her.

"Is that a bruise on your cheek?" I ask, reaching out to touch it. Like I expected, Vivian reacts suddenly, smacking my hand away and taking a step back. Knew it. If it wasn't a bruise and it didn't concern her, she wouldn't have suddenly flared up like that. I'm worried about her now, despite knowing that Vivian's business isn't mine.

"It's nothing," Vivian says flatly, shrugging her coat tighter around her and glancing around the carpark. "Um, look. I'm going to go and catch the bus home."

"Do you want a lift?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. I would have thought that if anything, Zack would have been picking her up, but apparently not. The sky is getting dark and it looks like it's going to rain, but Vivian shakes her head vehemently.

"No. Thanks, but I'm okay with public transport."

I watch as she turns on her heel and walks off towards the bus stop, hands sliding back into her pockets. Something's happened to Vivian, and although I know I shouldn't be, I'm determined to find out what.


End file.
